A Mix of Minds
by Tynan Jay
Summary: When two prisoners escape from Pontiac Correctional Facility in Illinois, the BAU team work with Special Agent Alex Mahone from Chicago to capture them. It should be easy enough—except one of the escapees has an interest in Spencer, and the other turns out to be far more dangerous than anyone expected.


**A/N:** A note on timing - this is set pre-series for Criminal Minds, shortly before Gideon's bombing in Boston, and about the beginning of Season 1 of Prison Break.

**March 2005**

"Guys, conference room, now."

JJ's urgent tone kept Morgan and Spencer from groaning or otherwise complaining about the prospect of a new case when they'd barely started the reports from their last one. JJ didn't even have an apologetic smile for them and a glance across the bullpen showed Hotch and Gideon already waiting in the conference room, so there were no doubts in either of their minds that whatever this new case was, it was serious. Hotch's words when they entered only confirmed it, the unit chief speaking before they even sat down.

"Victor Bartlett."

Morgan's gaze snapped to Spencer as the young agent's head looked up from the files on the conference table, subconsciously lifting a hand to rub his neck.

"Bartlett?" Spencer repeated. "He was one of my first cases. Why... he's serving life at Pontiac, right?"

"He was," Hotch said. "We've just got word that he and another prisoner escaped during a fire in the prison yesterday afternoon."

Spencer swallowed visibly and sat down, opening the files on the table. Morgan did likewise, but it wasn't really necessary. He might not have an eidetic memory, but the Bartlett case wasn't one he was about to forget. Victor Bartlett was a fifty-four year old who strangled four geniuses and cooked their brains to soup in a twisted belief it would improve his own intelligence. He'd been instantly fascinated with Spencer and somehow managed to get close enough in the interview room to get his hands around the young genius's neck. Spencer had bruises for a week, but they'd put the guy away.

Perhaps feeling Morgan's gaze on him, Spencer cleared his throat and asked, "Who's the other escapee?"

JJ picked up the controller for the TV screen, pressed a button, and the mugshot of an attractive, clean shaven, arrogant looking man appeared on the screen beside that of Bartlett's scowling, rat-faced image.

"Lucius Durante, thirty-nine," she explained. "Arrested two years ago for aggravated assault, sentenced to fouryears."

"Cellmates?" Morgan asked, but JJ shook her head.

"No, actually, they weren't even housed in the same unit. Bartlett was in high security; Durante in medium."

Morgan frowned, looking down at Durante's rapsheet. "But they escaped together? What does a sociopathic serial killer with poor social skills want with a guy like Durante?"

"We don't know yet what the connection between the two is," Hotch said, "but given our understanding of Bartlett the director wants us to work with the Chicago field office and create a profile on Durante. Wheels up in twenty."

* * *

Alex Mahone looked up from the irritatingly thin file he had on Lucius Durante when a knock came at his office door, scowling when he saw four unfamiliar figures outside. The one who'd knocked was about his own age, but he wore both his years and his suit better than Alex did, and he stood by an older man with a receding hairline who'd foregone a full suit in favour of just smart pants and shirt. A black man in his thirties had already discarded his own suit jacket and was looking through a file, while behind him a young man who barely looked old enough to be in the academy, let alone the field, was inspecting the map pinned up with markers showing where there'd been sightings of Durante and Bartlett.

Generally Alex didn't mind working with other agents or even other agencies, and a year ago he probably wouldn't have minded having the Behavioural Analysis Unit aiding him, but a year ago he hadn't killed Oscar Shales or developed a drug habit. Given that he was meeting his dealer that evening, the last thing Alex wanted was to be surrounded by a team of people whose primary method of investigation was psychoanalysing everything and everyone around them. He was no amateur when it came to psychology himself, so he knew enough to know he didn't want the BAU team profiling him.

There was no arguing with the director's orders though, so Alex closed Durante's file and stood, removing his reading glasses and leaving them on the desk as he left the office. The knocker was the first to hold out a hand for Alex to shake.

"Agent Mahone? I'm SSA Aaron Hotchner—call me Hotch. This is Jason Gideon and Derek Morgan—" he gestured to the older and black man respectively, then over to the young one "—and Spencer Reid."

Alex couldn't help some of the surprise showing on his face as the kid—because he might as well have been—turned to give him a nervous smile and a little wave of greeting, because he knew that name, had read it in a case file just this morning.

"Dr. Spencer Reid?" he asked, just for clarification. "The Dr. Reid who Bartlett assaulted after being arrested?"

Spencer glanced away, cheeks flushing slightly, and cleared his throat. "Yeah. Uh... yes. That... that was me."

Alex didn't mention that he'd imagined Spencer would be older when he'd read the reports. The looks on the profilers' faces said they already knew and that Alex wasn't the first one to make that mistake.

So instead he held up the file he'd brought from his office. "Seeing as you already know about Bartlett, this is everything we have on Durante, which isn't much."

Gideon lifted a hand and shook his head. "We already have copies of his file; we began working on the flight over. If it's alright with you, we'd like to talk to Durante's cellmate while he was inside."

Alex had to admire their efficiency at least; it was one of the first things he wanted to do as well. Almost on cue, the fax machine to one side went off and Alex went to collect what was on it, taking one glance then holding it up.

"Kyle Harven's information; that's Durante's cellmate. He was released a week ago after serving eighteen months for possession and prostitution. There's an address for a halfway house, but he shared a cell with Durante for most of his sentence and the phone call I had with the warden said they were close, so I'm heading to Pontiac to see what the other guards or inmates can tell me about them and Bartlett. Maybe we can get some idea of why they've joined up and where we might find them."

"You mind if I tag along?" Gideon asked.

Alex did, but he nodded his agreement anyway because he knew the quickest way to get the BAU out of his office and back to D.C. was to play nice. Until then, he just hoped the profilers would be too focused on the escapees to psychoanalyse Alex.

"I'll come as well," Hotch said. "Morgan, Reid, go to the halfway house and see what you can learn from Kyle Harven."

* * *

The halfway house was a rundown, state-funded facility and Kyle Harven wasn't there.

"He didn't even stay two days," a Doctor Brooks told them; she was the resident therapist. "To be honest, I was surprised he stayed that long. Kyle is an unhappy, self-destructive young man and he didn't want to stay clean. Prison was a bad place for him and when he got out..." She shrugged and smiled sadly. "He just wanted to forget."

"Do you know where he might have gone?" Morgan asked, but Brooks shook her head.

"He was living on the streets before his incarceration and from what I gather, he had no family or friends who might have taken him in. I'm sorry, agents, but the best I can tell you is that he's probably back on the streets."

"Why was prison a bad place for him? What did he want to forget? Just anything you can tell us," Morgan added at Brooks' hesitant expression, knowing the doctor's unwilling to break confidentiality.

"To be honest, I don't know much," she admitted. "Kyle didn't talk to me much. All I know is his cellmate assaulted and raped him on a regular basis and nothing was ever done about it."

They questioned her a little more, but she had nothing else to tell them so they thanked her and left.

"So we've got a violent rapist and a sociopath," Morgan said as they headed for the SUV. "Question is, why are they working together now?"

"They might not be," Spencer suggested. "Bartlett's a loner with no social skills. It seems unlikely he'd work with anyone beyond what was necessary for the escape."

"Unless Durante can help him in some way. We need to know more about this guy. Here." He tossed the SUV's keys to Spencer and pulled open the passenger door. "You drive. I'll call Garcia, see what she's found out about—"

"Um, Morgan? We're not going anywhere."

"Why not?"

"Someone's slashed our tyres."

"What? Oh, man. Alright, I'll call breakdown."

Spencer nodded, glancing down the street as Morgan pulled out his cell phone and dialled. A gas van was parked on the opposite side of the street a few yards up, but as Spencer watched, its engine started up and it pulled away from the kerb. It didn't pick up speed though and Spencer half turned to draw Morgan's attention as the vehicle rolled to a stop beside them, but he barely had chance to open his mouth before the side door of the van slid open. He caught a brief glimpse of a semi-familiar face then an arm was around his throat, jerking him back into the van. He gave a choked cry and Morgan turned, dropping the phone and going for his gun, but the van was already pulling away with a screech of tyres and Spencer got one last glance at Morgan as the weapon came up before the van pulled further away. He heard several shots but then the choking cut off too much of his oxygen and he lost consciousness.

* * *

Lucius Durante's cell was a mess, but Warden Mirren told Gideon and Alex that that was the result of the guards searching it for information on the escape.

"He normally keeps it neat," Mirren told Alex while Gideon inspected the cell. "We tell them all to keep it tidy, but Durante actually did and he made sure Harven did too. He would get pretty annoyed if Harven left a mess in the cell."

"You said on the phone that Durante and Harven were close," Alex prompted.

Mirren nodded. "I mean, these guys makes alliances all the time, cellmates get friendly just because they've got little choice, but Durante took a shine to Harven. Harven got on the wrong side of the Aryans his first day in and Durante stepped in, protected him. After that you barely saw them apart."

"So they weren't necessarily close," Alex said, a hint of irritation creeping into his voice. "Durante was just Harven's protector."

"Well, yeah, but... look, I'm not saying that the relationship was good or healthy, for either of them, but you wanted to know who Durante was close to and the kid was it. He was obsessed with Harven. Possessive."

"That's an interesting choice of words, warden," Gideon remarked.

Mirren shrugged. "True enough. It was no secret that Harven was willing to put out for anyone dealing dope, but anyone who took him up on that offer ended up in the infirmary. Anyone touched Harven—in hate or lust—they ended up hurt."

"Harven was released a week ago; do you think Durante would have escaped to get to him?"

"Honestly? Yes. Durante kicked up a lot of fuss over Harven's release, even tried to frame Harven for attacking another inmate in an attempt to get his sentence extended."

"We need to find Harven," Alex said. "We find Harven, we find Durante."

"And Bartlett?" Mirren asked.

"We need to figure out the connection between Durante and Bartlett," Gideon told him.

Mirren sighed. "I told you, they had no contact before the escape. Far as we can tell, it was just a matter of opportunity. They both took advantage of the fire."

"Do you know what caused the fire?"

"Several inmates stole various bits from the kitchens and work force, managed to mix up something flammable enough to get a big fire going during yard time. To be honest, we're lucky they're the only escapes we had; the firestarters confessed that escape was their plan, but not one that Bartlett or Durante was in on."

Mirren had little more to offer them. By the time they finished interviewing him and inspecting the cell, they had nothing that would help them find either escapee.

"Even if they had no contact beforehand, some kind of connection had to have come from the escape," Gideon said as he and Alex went to meet with Hotch, who'd been talking to Bartlett's cellmate and the guards in the high security unit. "I can believe two inmates from different parts of the prison take advantage of a chance at escape, but for them to just... shake hands and go their separate ways?" He shook his head. "I don't believe that."

Alex nodded his agreement. "If nothing else, catching Durante might give us information on where Bartlett headed."

Hotch was already waiting by the SUV for them, talking on the phone with a concerned expression. He hung up just as they approached and didn't give them chance to ask what was wrong.

"They got Reid."

* * *

Spencer was still in the back of the van when he came to, but it was no longer moving. His wrists had been cuffed in front of him and a bit of cloth shoved in his mouth as a gag. Durante sat in the driver's seat, but turned sideways so he could keep half his attention on Spencer and half on the outside of the vehicle, which was inside a parking lot, judging from what little Spencer could see.

"Welcome to the waking world, Doctor," Durante said when he noticed Spencer awake. He had Spencer's gun in one hand, resting against his thigh, and wore jeans, a black button up shirt, and a leather jacket, probably stolen to replace the distinctive prison garb. "Sleep well?"

Unable to answer, Spencer merely glared and hoped it looked angrier and more threatening than it felt. Given Durante's complete lack of reaction, he guessed not.

"Vic's just getting some supplies," Durante said conversationally. "Then we're going underground for a bit so your friends think we've moved on further than we have."

He glanced around the outside of the vehicle then squeezed between the seats to the back, crouching in front of Spencer and ignoring Spencer's tensing and leaning away from him. He reached for Spencer's face then paused, sighed, and lifted the gun.

"I hate to be so cliché about these things, but it's got to be done, alright? I've got the gun; ergo—you scream, I shoot. Capisce?"

Spencer nodded.

"Good lad." He lowered the gun again and tugged the cloth from Spencer's mouth. "So are you really as smart as Vic says?"

"How smart does he say I am?"

"He reckons you'll have read my rap sheet once and be able to recite the entire thing."

"Your name's Lucius Evan Durante, born twelfth of January, nineteen sixty-six in Loveland, Colorado. You've got an apartment in East Bellevue Place; you were arrested on the fifth of February two-thousand-three for assaulting someone in a gay club, your social security number is five-two—"

Durante cut him off with a sharp noise. "Alright, I get your point. You could have just said he's right."

He took a look through the windows again and Spencer nervously licked at his lips and asked, "What do you want with me?"

"Me? Nothing." He must have sensed Spencer's scepticism because he turned back and gave him what Spencer assumed was meant to be a reassuring smile. "Honestly, I don't give two fucks about you, Doctor. But my friend Vic... he's _really_ into you, isn't he? Hasn't stopped talking about you since we got out of Pontiac. Do you know what he wants to do with you?"

Spencer tugged at the handcuffs binding him, knowing it was useless but unable to help himself even as he answered, "He wants to kill me."

"Not just kill you. He wants to cook your brains and eat them."

Spencer said nothing. He'd been trying not to think about that.

"He's got this twisted delusion that doing that will make him cleverer somehow. He's a bit of a sick fuck."

"Then why are you working with him?" Spencer asked, recognising an opportunity to drive a wedge between the two. If he could get them to turn on each other, he might have a better chance to get away. If Durante really had no interest in him, then Spencer might be able to convince him to give himself up. After all, Bartlett was the sociopath; Durante had only been arrested for assault. With any luck, he'd recognise the foolishness of holding a federal agent hostage and turn himself in without any bloodshed.

Durante clicked his tongue and shrugged apologetically. "I need help finding someone."

"Kyle Harven," Spencer guessed. "Is that where he is now? Finding Kyle?"

"He's making some calls while he gets us some supplies," Durante admitted. "For a guy so twisted in the head, he claims to have some surprisingly useful connections. Assuming they're real of course."

"You think it's safe letting Bartlett—Vic—go out alone? He's a sociopath and a dangerous fugitive; his face is all over the news. Someone might recognise him."

Durante scowled, tapping the gun against his thigh and shifting back to the driver's seat to take another look around. "It's not ideal," he admitted, "but someone had to stay with you and if it'd been him you probably never would have woken up."

Spencer couldn't help gulping at that, but also couldn't resist asking, "How do I know _you_ won't kill me?"

"I didn't mark you," Durante answered distractedly, gaze fixed on something outside the van. Before Spencer could ask what he meant by that, he turned back, reached over and shoved the cloth back in Spencer's mouth. "Just do as I say and you'll be alright. I'm not interested in you, Doctor. I just want Kyle."

A moment later, the passenger door opened and Bartlett clambered into the vehicle. Spencer really hoped Durante was being honest, because it was bad enough being the object of obsession to a sociopath. He didn't fancy drawing Durante's interest as well.

* * *

"Tell me what you need to get our resident genius back."

Alex leant against the wall of the conference room, drumming his fingers against the plaster in an effort to hide the small tremors that were starting in his hands. In the middle of the room, a speaker phone sat on the table and a determined feminine voice spoke from it, while the BAU team gathered around it. They were all tense, understandably, and Alex couldn't help thinking they'd probably benefit from one of the midazolam pills in his pocket.

"Garcia, we need everything you've dug up on Durante," Hotch said. He stood with arms folded over his chest, shoulders tight and brow furrowed with worry. Morgan sat on the table, but looked ready to leap up and start shooting something at any moment, while Gideon stood with both hands resting on the table, staring at the speaker like he could glare it into giving him a solution to finding Spencer. Spencer's cell phone sat on the table as well; they'd found it tossed away just a couple of hundred yards from the halfway house.

"Lucius Evan Durante, born to Marco and Mary-Ann Durante. Dad was a marine, died from a heart attack two and a half years ago; Mum's in a nursing home with parkinsons, used to be a professor of Roman History at University of Chicago, which explains the name Lucius. Mother has a sister in Loveland, Colorado, but that's it as far as extended family goes. The family is loaded though; a lot of old money and it doesn't look like Lucius has ever actually worked a day in his life. Alright for some, lucky son of a—"

"Garcia," Morgan interrupted. "What can you tell us that'll help us find Reid?"

"Right, sorry. Well he's lived in Chicago his whole life, BA in Classics at UoC. He has an apartment in the north side, but it looks like he also still owns Mum and Dad's old house in Lincoln Park."

"Great. Garcia—"

"Addresses sent to your phones," she said. "Go find him."

The others were already moving, digging cell phones from their pockets. "Morgan, you and Gideon take the apartment," Hotch commanded. "Mahone and I will check Lincoln Park. Call local PD for backup. Let's move."

Alex hung back as they filed out of the room, hurriedly drawing the false pen from his pocket and unscrewing it, tapping out one of the little blue pills onto his palm and tossing it back. It was the last one, which nullified the immediate placebo calm that usually came as soon as he downed a pill. He didn't like not having any on hand, but he couldn't see his dealer until that evening so he just capped the pen and headed out after the others.

* * *

A hand yanked Spencer out the side of the van and he dropped to his knees in the middle of the two-car garage they were parked in.

"Take a seat, Doctor Smarty-Pants."

"Hey!"

Spencer looked up and around warily as Bartlett pushed between him and Durante, shoving Durante away, the pair lit up by the van's headlights.

"He's mine, you don't hurt him."

Durante scoffed. "I didn't hurt your precious Doctor Smarty-Pants, Vic."

"Don't call him that."

_How did my life get so weird_, Spencer wondered, watching the two. He'd been called every cruel name that teenagers could come up with and almost never had anyone stand up for him, yet here was a sociopathic serial killer defending him from a gun-wielding fugitive over a name that barely warranted being called an insult. Bartlett seemed honestly more offended than Spencer, standing with his fists clenched and chin lifted, glaring at Durante, the plastic bag of supplies discarded to the floor.

And beyond the van, the garage's door wasn't quite shut properly. Bartlett must have abandoned it to come to Spencer's defence and Durante hadn't noticed. It wasn't too far away and while Durante and Bartlett were focused on each other...

He took a chance. Durante and Bartlett stood close to each other and while Spencer didn't have much in the way of fighting skills, he'd been the victim of enough violence to know the basics of what he needed to do. After that, it was just a matter of simple physics—force equals mass times acceleration. He might be lacking a bit in the mass area, but he thought he could get just enough speed to make up for it, so he shifted slightly, took one last glance about to check his distance, and swept his leg around.

It worked like a charm. His leg caught the ankles of both men and they crashed down with shouts of surprise and pain. The gun dropped from Durante's hand and slid across the garage, and Spencer scrambled to his feet, fumbling to grab the weapon up with his still bound hands.

But he underestimated Durante's recovery time. He barely had the weapon in hand and turned to face the convicts when Durante's hand latched around his ankle and yanked. He dropped, head hitting the wall and ass hitting the floor. Stars burst across his vision and pain through his coccyx, and he was only half aware of the gun being snatched from him before a fist slammed into the side of his face and he toppled sideways.

"You're going to damage him!"

The words sounded distant and distorted and it took a minute for him to realise why they seemed so wrong. _Damage him_... like he was some kind of possession, a doll at risk of being broken instead of a real person in danger of being seriously hurt.

"Fine, then I'll just hit him _here_," Durante growled, punctuating the word with a kick to the stomach that left Spencer wheezing, curling in on himself. Durante crouched, grabbing his hair and jerking his head up. With the dizziness of the two blows to the head, he struggled to focus on the man's face.

"Try anything like that again and I will shoot you, and it won't be in the head or heart, you hear me?"

"Y-yes," Spencer whimpered and Durante let him go. He heard more than saw the man walk away from him and heard the clang of the garage door shutting properly.

Bartlett grabbed his arms and Spencer couldn't contain a flinch, but the man just gently lifted him into a sitting position to lean against the wall. He'd brought over the plastic bag and took a bottle of water from it, cracking it open and holding it up to Spencer's mouth.

"Here. You okay?"

"What do you think?" Spencer replied after sipping down some of the water.

"But your head," Bartlett insisted, setting down the water and reaching one hand around to feel the back of Spencer's head, ignoring Spencer's attempt to jerk away. "I can't feel any damage. Do you have a concussion?"

Spencer was tempted to lie and say yes, but he had a feeling that if Bartlett thought his brain was damaged then he'd give Durante permission to shoot him.

"I'm fine."

Bartlett frowned but accepted the answer. He took a bag of chips and a chocolate bar from the bag and left them by the water bottle before taking the bag over to where Durante sat on the opposite side of the garage, kneeling by him and beginning a whispered but clearly angry conversation. Spencer watched them carefully, trying to ascertain what he could from their interactions. Durante was clearly perfectly willing to hurt him and he knew Bartlett wanted to kill him, but Durante seemed unwilling to let Bartlett murder him just yet. The only question was how long Bartlett would continue along with it before he snapped and went for Spencer anyway; he'd never kept his previous victims for more than a few hours. Hopefully Durante's presence would significantly lengthen that—or at least prolong it enough for someone to find them.

* * *

"Damn, will you look at this place?" Morgan said, part appreciation and part jealous complaint as he stood in the impressive living room of Durante's apartment. It'd been empty, much to their annoyance, and the only person they found in his parents' house was a cleaner who very nearly had a heart attack when the cops burst into the place. She'd told them that Durante hadn't lived in his parents' house since he turned eighteen, so Alex and Hotch joined Morgan and Gideon at the apartment, but left a couple of uniforms to watch it just in case Durante did turn up.

The apartment was an impressively sized, richly decorated bachelor pad that made Morgan envious. It was spotlessly clean—the work of the same cleaner who cared for the parents' house—but the four of them were going through it thoroughly to learn what they could about the man.

"Dude must get all the ladies."

"Wouldn't be so sure about that," Alex countered, crouched in front of the DVD shelf. There was a drawer in the bottom that he lifted a few DVDs from and held up. "Gay porn."

"Dude gets all the dudes then," Morgan corrected. Hotch was in the bedroom and Gideon the kitchen, so he moved to the bathroom, opening the cabinet to check the contents. At first glance it was unremarkable, but nudging aside a bottle of cologne revealed an orange pill pot that he checked the label of before leaving the room.

"Looks like our boy has trouble performing," he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Gideon came through from the kitchen, frowning. "Didn't you say the halfway house therapist said Durante raped Harven regularly?"

"Yeah," Morgan agreed, a frown marring his own face as he realised what Gideon was getting at. "So if he can get it up enough for that, what's he need viagra for?"

"Violence."

Hotch had come through from the bedroom now and all three BAU members looked over to Alex at his softly spoken word. He held up the porn DVDs again.

"From the look of it, this is all hardcore stuff. BDSM and the like."

"A sexual sadist," Hotch realised. "He gets off on violence, but for anything less he needs the help."

A heavy silence filled the room as they all considered what that might mean for Spencer only for it to be broken by the loud trilling of Morgan's cell phone.

"Garcia," he said on checking the screen and answering. "You're on speaker, baby girl. What d'you got?"

"An unsealed juvie record for one Lucius Durante. At age sixteen he was arrested for sexually assaulting a fellow student—a guy—at his high school. Durante claims it was all consensual and the other kid was only saying otherwise to avoid being outed as gay. But the interesting thing? It's the same person he was put away for assaulting two years ago."

"But there was no sexual assault two years ago?" Hotch asked for confirmation.

"Nope. Looks like he just settled for beating the bejeezus out of him this time. I also found out that before the assault—the first one in his teens—Lucius spent time in one of those gay-curing camps. Looks like Dad didn't approve of his son's proclivities. Obviously didn't work that well, but after the assault instead of going to juvie, Lucius was sent back to the camp, stayed there until he was eighteen." There was a brief pause, then, "Is this going to help you find Spencer?"

"Yeah, it helps, baby girl."

"Good. You'd better bring him back safe."

"We will," Morgan promised her and started to hang up only for Hotch to stop him.

"Garcia, took another look into Durante's properties. Double check Bartlett's as well. I think everything he owned was seized after his arrest, but something might have been missed. They've got to be hiding somewhere."

"On it, captain. If he owns so much as a rat hole, I'll find it."

"Do I want to know how your technical analyst unsealed a juvie record?" Alex asked when Morgan hung up.

"Probably not," Hotch replied with a faint smile. "But at least we can start building a real profile."

Gideon nodded. "Rich gay kid sent to a curing camp, probably religion-based—"

"How do you figure?" Alex interrupted.

"'Durante' is Italian. Italian-American living in Chicago? Good guess they're catholic. So mum and dad send him to camp, but it doesn't work quite as well as they hope, maybe because Lucius doesn't want it to."

"But some of the methods those places use border on torture," Morgan took over. "So Lucius learns that sex goes hand-in-hand with force, maybe even violence. But it doesn't cure him because he's not sick and once he's in high school he channels the forcefulness he learnt at camp and assaults a fellow student."

"He could have been telling the truth about it being consensual," Hotch countered, "and the other boy lying would have left him angry and bitter, something exasperated by being sent back to the camp. But if he'd acted on that anger, I'd expect he'd have more of a criminal record. So he suppresses it, pushes it down and only lets it out a little at a time with some consensual rough sex maybe, or BDSM."

"Until two years ago when he saw his old classmate and snapped," Alex finished. "And then in prison he gives into the anger and violent desires and starts attacking his cellmate."

Morgan folded his arms and frowned. "But if we're profiling him as a sexual sadist, I'd expect more than a single incident in his teens. Sexual sadists aren't born overnight; they start small and escalate. They don't go twenty years as model citizens and then start raping people in jail."

"Harven might not have been the first," Gideon answered. "Very few male rapes get reported; Lucius could have attacked someone before and got away with it because the victim was too scared to tell the police or—"

He broke off suddenly, eyes drifting out of focus as he remembered something. The others exchanged glances, but said nothing until Gideon blinked and snapped his gaze to Hotch's.

"You remember in late two-thousand-two, we were called here to help with a serial killer?"

Hotch nodded, folding his arms and frowning as he thought of it. "The Lake Michigan Mutilator. Raped, tortured, and killed eight young men in half as many months, dumped their body in the lakes. We never caught him. He just stopped."

"In February the following year."

"The same time Durante was arrested," Alex realised. "You think he's the one responsible?"

"Fits the profile," Hotch told him unhappily, realising that Spencer's situation was getting worse with everything they learnt. "Affluent white male in his thirties, background of sexual assault, handsome and charming, intelligent. Has access to a boat and witnesses saw at least one victim getting into a Lamborghini Gallardo."

"There are keys to a Lamborghini in the kitchen," Gidoen told them. "He probably never came under our radar before because of the sealed juvie record. Bet you anything Garcia finds a boat in his or his parents' name."

"The attack on his old classmate wasn't a stressor then," Hotch theorised. "Garcia said Marco Durante died two and half years ago. That probably stirred up old hatred and bitterness about the man sending him away, and started him killing."

Alex wasn't convinced. "If you think the father's death was a stressor, why'd he kill young men? Why not men closer to his father's age? That's normally how it works, isn't it—attacking those similar to the target of the UnSub's rage?"

"His father's death was the trigger, but not necessarily the centre of his rage," Gideon explained. "All the Mutilator's victims were prostitutes or men who frequented gay bars, and all dark-haired 'pretty boys'. We profiled that the UnSub killed them because they looked like someone he disliked, someone who might have betrayed him in some way. You've seen Lucius' photo—twenty years ago he was likely a pretty boy. He might have killed those men because of some deep seated resentment that they could or would flaunt their sexuality when, at their age, Lucius didn't. There may even be some internalised homophobia he's taking out on them, despite the apparent acceptance of his sexuality," he said with a gesture at the drawer of porn.

"We have to find them," Morgan said urgently. "If we don't get to Spencer..."

He trailed off, unable to say aloud that the chances of Spencer's survival had dropped considerably. Saying nothing more, they each returned to digging through the apartment in hopes of finding anything that'd tell them where to find Durante until Morgan's phone rang again.

"Guys, I found something," Garcia said urgently the minute he answered. "Remember I mentioned Mary-Ann Durante had a sister living in Colorado? Well there's a storage facility registered under her name in Chicago and a boat docked at a north side marina. I'm sending you the addresses now."

* * *

Spencer was cold. It'd been warm enough earlier that his sweater vest had been enough, but sitting doing nothing in a garage as night fell wasn't conducive to heat retention. It didn't help that he was laying along the cold concrete floor with one wall to his back, his coccyx too sore from the fall for him to sit up. Bartlett looked to be little better, but if Durante was cold he didn't show it. He sat opposite Spencer with the van at his back and had a pack of playing cards that, judging by the state of them, were stolen from the prison. He played solitaire and hadn't asked Bartlett or Spencer to play, but with cold and boredom seeping in—the latter of which wasn't something Spencer would've expected when he'd been kidnapped by violent fugitives—Spencer figured a game of cards might help distract him from the chill. It might also be a way to generate some rapport with Durante, create a connection that might discourage Durante from attacking or killing him.

He cleared his throat. "Play you at poker?"

Durante looked up and eyed Spencer calculatingly. "You any good?"

"I'm from Vegas and I'm a genius."

Durante shrugged. "Come here then. I've never played someone from Vegas, let's see if you're as good as you think you are."

"Me too," Bartlett said, getting up as Spencer struggled to his feet. "I want to play."

Durante glanced at him then scoffed and collected up his cards. "Whatever."

Spencer moved over and dropped to his knees just in front of Durante, while Bartlett shifted to make the third point of the triangle. As Durante shuffled, Spencer held out his cuffed wrists.

"Be easier to play without these one."

Durante didn't even glance at him. "After your little stunt earlier? I don't think so. Cuffs stay on, you'll just have be nimble."

Spencer didn't argue. He didn't want to risk pushing Durante's temper when Spencer's gun was still tucked in the back of the man's jeans, and a lifetime practising magic tricks made him nimble enough with his hands that he could manage. He hadn't really thought the man would free him, but he had to find out his boundaries.

"What are we playing for?" Bartlett asked.

There was a moment's pause as they considered it and Spencer opened his mouth to suggest the pack of cookies he'd noticed in the supplies bag, but Durante spoke quicker.

"Doctor Smarty-Pants."

"What?!"

Spencer and Bartlett spoke in unison, but Spencer's voice came out rather more high pitched than he would have liked.

"You can't bet me!"

"Why not? Wouldn't be the first time I've played cards for a man."

"I'm not a commodity! You can't just use me for currency."

"Yeah, you can't. He's mine, Lucius. Let's play for the cookies."

"What are you, five?" Durante sneered. "You want to play poker for cookies, go find some girl scouts. My cards, my rules. You don't want to play, go back to shivering in your corners. We play, then we play for the doctor. I win, I get to mark him."

"Mark me how?" Spencer asked, not entirely sure he wanted to know the answer. Durante's answering grin wasn't encouraging and Spencer stiffened as he reached over, fast as a lunging snake, and snatched a knife from the back of Bartlett's pants.

"Just a little cut."

"No!" Bartlett objected, making a grab for the knife but missing. "He belongs to me, Lucius. You don't get to hurt him!"

Spencer glanced between them then said, "I win, you let me go."

Bartlett, unsurprisingly, objected again but Durante considered him.

"I'll take the cuffs off."

That was exactly what Spencer had hoped his counter offer would be, but he scowled as if disappointed and added, "I get your jacket."

"Cuffs and jacket," Durante agreed. "You've got a deal, Doctor Smarty-Pants."

"No! You're not getting him!"

Bartlett made as if to attack Durante, but Durante shifted the knife to aim at the other man and Bartlett froze.

"The doctor's agreed to it, Vic. It's his body and if he's willing to bet it, it's not your place to argue. Now if you want to add your stakes to the game, speak up. Otherwise I'm playing with him."

Bartlett looked angrily between the knife, Durante, and Spencer before sitting back. "I get to kill—"

"No," Durante interrupted before he even finished. "You're not killing him."

"He's _mine_," Bartlett insisted angrily. "The whole point we took him was so I can kill him. I need his brain."

"And you can have it—when we've got Kyle. I let you kill him before then, you've got no reason to help me. That's the deal, Vic. Help me get Kyle, and you can have the doc."

"To hell with you! Why should I listen to what you say? Go find your stupid little whore by yourself, Lucius."

Spencer jerked aside as Bartlett lunged at Durante, seemingly unconcerned by the knife, but the scuffle didn't last. Bartlett fell back with a yelp of pain and in the next moment Durante was on Spencer, shoving him onto his front and pressing the gun into the back of his head, just behind his ear. Spencer went still and across from them he could see Bartlett freeze too, the van's headlights highlighting the scared and angry expression on his face and the bloody hand he cradled to his chest.

"You listen to what I say because I'm the one with the gun," Durante said in a low voice, "and if you don't do what I say then I will blow out the doctor's brains. I'd like to see you try to cook and eat them when they're splattered all over the floor."

"No, I'll—I'll help. Just don't shoot him. Don't shoot him. I need him."

"Then get back, and let us play a little poker."

Bartlett nodded and shuffled backwards, still clutching his hand to his chest. Durante took the gun and Spencer gave a sigh of relief, pushing himself up as Durante moved away. He didn't really want to play poker now, but he didn't dare argue when Durante kept the gun by his side instead of returning it to the back of his jeans, so he just shuffled over to the cards and put on his best poker face as Durante started dealing.

* * *

"Goddamnit!"

Alex holstered his weapon and moved forward as the SWAT team lowered their guns and backed off, several of them shooting Morgan wary looks as he kicked the wall of the mostly empty storage unit. There was no Spencer, Durante, or Bartlett, just a small padlocked safe at the back of the room.

"Can we get those bolt cutters in here?" Alex called and the SWAT member who'd cracked open the storage unit came forward again to snap the lock on the safe. Morgan's phone rang as Alex crouched to open the safe and he heard the other man angrily informing Hotch that they hadn't found Spencer. Judging by the curse word he then spat out, Hotch and Gideon had no luck at the marina either.

"All we've got is a safe, Mahone's opening it now. What's in it?"

The last part was directed at Alex, who grabbed a handful of the square cases inside, each one holding a plain DVD disc with a neatly handwritten name on the front.

"We were right, Hotch," Morgan said into the phone. "There's a whole bunch of homemade DVDs here with names of the mutilator's victims. But Hotch... there's at least fifteen DVDs. They only ever found eight bodies with the Mutilator's signature."

Alex put the discs back and stood, removing his own cell phone and calling the field office to inform the agent in charge of the Lake Michigan Mutilator case about the discovery. Morgan finished his call and Alex glanced at his watch then cleared his throat.

"Morgan, can you handle this? I've got a CI that might be able to give me some info. I'll meet you back at the field office in an hour?"

Morgan nodded, tossing him the keys to the SUV. "I'll catch a ride with SWAT."

Alex thanked him and let out a long, low breath as he tugged off his kevlar and clambered into the SUV. He felt bad for thinking it, but a part of him was almost grateful for Spencer's abduction because it meant the rest of the BAU team were too focused on him to pay attention to Alex. But he also wondered if he was putting too much faith in their abilities. After all he'd managed to hide his habit from everyone else he'd worked with in the past nine months. If people he saw regularly couldn't notice it, why should a group of strangers from D.C, even if they were psychoanalysts?

He pushed them out of mind as he headed across town, pulling up by the kerb not quite in an area of town where his government issue SUV stood out as something worth targeting, but close enough to make him lock the doors. He sent a two word text message and two minutes later a young man approached the car. He had closely shaven dark hair and beard, dressed in worn jeans and a hoodie, and carried a messenger bag which he pulled onto his lap after climbing into the SUV.

"Midazolam, fifteen hundred mils," he said, pulling an orange pill pot from the bag and handing it over. Alex snatched it from him and immediately cracked it open to pull out a pill and gulp it down. Unlike earlier, this time it had the immediate calming effect, his mind relaxing his body at just knowing he had another pill in his system even though it hadn't taken effect yet. "You need anything else?"

In answer, Alex reached around to the backseat and picked up a casefile, opening it and taking a mugshot of Kyle Harven from it.

"I need to find this guy, Eddie."

Eddie took it reluctantly, eying the picture like it was about to grow teeth and bite his hands off. "I ain't no snitch, Mahone. That deal with Shales was one thing, he was bad business, but if people think I'm squealing—"

"I'm trying to save his life, Eddie," Alex interrupted. "Someone's looking to kill him. If I can get to him first, I can save him and he can help me catch the guy who's after him. His name's Kyle Harven and he's a junkie. He got out of prison a week ago and there's a good chance he's looking to score."

Eddie looked the picture over again then glanced back at Alex. "You're really just trying to save him?"

"That's it."

Eddie hesitated then handed the picture back. "I've seen him. Like you said, he came looking for smack about a week ago. I didn't have none but I sent him to a guy that does. I ain't rolling on him, but give me an hour and I can make some calls, maybe find something out."

"An hour," Alex agreed, slipping the picture back into the file and tossing it to the back seat again, then taking his wallet from his pocket and drawing a couple of notes out that he handed Eddie, but held onto them when Eddie tried to take them. "I don't hear from you, you don't get paid next time."

Eddie scowled but nodded, and Alex let him take the money.

* * *

Spencer sighed and tugged Durante's leather jacket tighter around himself. He'd bested the man at poker, but got the jacket only after Durante accused him of cheating and insisted on checking him for hidden cards, a check that involved patting Spencer down considerably more thoroughly than he was comfortable with. But Durante eventually conceded that Spencer hadn't cheated and gave up his jacket and removed the cuffs.

He jumped at the sudden sound of a phone ringing, looking towards Bartlett as the man dug a cell from his pocket. It was the first Spencer was seeing of a cell phone and it gave him a spark of hope. A cell phone meant contact outside the garage, a chance for him to call someone if he could get his hands on it, and the possibility of Garcia tracing it if the rest of the team found out about it.

Whoever called did most of the talking, Bartlett only responding with 'hmm' and 'yeah' and 'okay' before eventually hanging up and looking over at Durante.

"Sonny found Kyle. He's at a motel in Avondale."

Durante grinned broadly. "Time to go then. Here, start the van."

He stood and took the keys from his pocket to toss to Bartlett then went to the back wall of the garage, crouched and swept away a surprising amount of dirt, scraping it out of a small ditch in the ground. As Spencer and Bartlett watched, he hooked his fingers in the ditch and pulled, lifting up a hidden trapdoor.

"What's that?" Bartlett asked, moving away from the van to peer down.

"My playroom, and somewhere to hide Doctor Smarty-Pants while we fetch Kyle."

Spencer started. "What?"

"I didn't agree to that, Lucius."

Durante shot Bartlett a dirty look. "Do you want him to still be here when we get back? He's a genius; if we don't lock him down, he'll figure a way out. But trust me he's not getting out of here."

Spencer looked between the two and the trapdoor with horror, unencouraged by Bartlett's considering expression, then scrambled to his feet when Bartlett nodded.

"No!"

Durante didn't waste time arguing, just crossed the space between them, drew the gun and grabbed Spencer's arm, dragging him towards the trapdoor. "You're going down there, doc. No use fighting."

"No, no, please, just—just leave me up here. I—"

Durante pistol-whipped him. "Get down the hole."

Spencer hesitated, looking down at the narrow ladder leading down to a dark room of indeterminate size, but Durante shifted again and Spencer flinched.

"Get. Down."

Swallowing thickly, he reluctantly climbed down and looked up when he reached the bottom, clutching at the ladder. Durante tugged the handcuffs from his pocket and tossed them down.

"Cuff yourself to the ladder. Both hands, looped through."

"Please, you don't have to do this."

Durante cocked the gun, anger and impatience on his face now. "Doc, I have my boy to get to and you are wasting my time. Cuff yourself before I shoot you."

Unhappily, Spencer did as ordered, snapping the cuffs around one wrist then pulling it through the ladder and locking it around the other wrist. He looked up for one last glance at Durante and Bartlett looking down at him, then the trapdoor flipped shut and he was left in darkness.

* * *

The field office was swarming. A taskforce was set up in one room with everything they had on the Lake Michigan Mutilator pinned to boards and walls. In an adjacent room, a technical analyst was going through the video's found in Durante's storage unit.

Alex had been sidelined; Special Agent Chang was in charge of the case and the BAU team knew it better than Alex too, so he sat to one side reading the case files and learning what he could while he waited to hear back from Eddie. It wasn't pleasant. He knew from following the story two years ago that the Mutilator had tortured and raped his victims before killing them, but the details were far worse. Autopsy photos showed vicious burns on the victims' chests, whip marks on their backs, cuts on their arms and legs, and beatings to the face that broke noses and fractured cheekbones. Originally they'd guessed, from the times of death and abduction, that he kidnapped his next victim before killing his previous, likely to make them watch. Durante's videos only confirmed it.

He was glad for his phone to ring and give him an excuse to close the file on the autopsy photos of the Mutilator's last found victim.

"What d'you got for me, Eddie?"

"The dude you're looking for is at a motel on Avondale. You should get here quick; he's with a, uh... a client, y'know what I mean? He probably won't be here long."

Alex was already on his feet, gesturing to get Morgan's attention. "'Here'? You're at the motel now?"

"Yeah, I had some business to do," he said defensively.

"Eddie, stay exactly where you are. If Harven starts moving, you call me immediately."

"Your CI?" Morgan asked as he hung up.

"Yeah, he's got a location on Harven, we need to move now."

He moved off, hearing Morgan yell back to Hotch about where they were going. Within five minutes they were on the road. Fifteen minutes later they were at the motel but there was no sign of Eddie, and when they showed Harven's picture to the manager they were directed to a room that was messy but empty.

"You sure we're at the right place?" Morgan asked. In answer Alex withdrew his cell and dialled Eddie's number. Immediately they heard an answering ring from across the motel parking lot. Looking across, it seemed to be coming from behind the ice machine. "Mahone, there's someone behind there."

They drew their weapons and crossed the lot, edging around the ice machine carefully.

"Shit."

Lying behind it, throat slashed, was Victor Bartlett, with Eddie's messenger bag and cell phone discarded by his side.

* * *

Spencer's wrists were bloody but he still kept pulling at the handcuffs, hoping something would give while he shouted himself hoarse in the hope someone would hear him. The room was pitch black and that would be scary enough by itself, but he kept remembering Durante's words when he first opened the trap door, about how it was his 'playroom'. His imagination was coming up with all kinds of unpleasant possible objects that might be in the room, everything ranging from medieval torture devices to autopsy tables on which Durante planned to tie him down and cut him up into tiny little pieces. It didn't help that a rotten smell permeated the entire room.

He never heard the garage door open, nor the van or voices, only realised his abductors were back when the trapdoor opened above him. He looked up, squinting at the light shining down.

"Get down. Get down before I shove you down!"

Durante's order was punctuated by someone whimpering and then a figure descending the ladder.

"Mind the doc while you go," Durante called. "There's a light switch on the wall to the left of the ladder."

The figure reached the bottom, pressed blindly at the wall, and eventually hit a switch that lit a bulb hanging from the middle of the room. It blinded Spencer for a moment and when he could see again, another person was descending the ladder. The one already in the room with him was a young man with closely shaven dark hair and beard, his face scared and hands bound with a zip tie.

The room itself was nothing like he expected and yet still managed to terrify him. There was a metal framed bed in the centre with chains attached to head- and footboard, while a table sat to one side with a whip, some knives, and several boxes of matches. A video camera stood in one corner, blood stained the concrete floor, and worst of all was the source of the rotten smell—two bodies, one on the bed and one chained in the corner opposite the camera, decomposed to the point of being little more than skeletons with rotted flesh.

"Oh god," groaned the unfamiliar guy. "Oh Jesus, fuck, I think I'm gonna be sick."

"This is messed up, Lucius."

That came from the second guy—Kyle Harven, Spencer recognised from his mugshots. His hands were bound as well, and he seemed twice as afraid of Durante as the other man, edging away and watching with nervous eyes as Durante came down, hopping off the ladder and wrinkling his nose at the sight of the two bodies.

"I didn't leave them here by choice," he muttered, moving forwards and peering at them. "That's just what happens when you get put away for a couple of years. You, Eddie—come here."

Eddie shook his head, backing up instead until his back hit the ladder. "This is fucked up, I gotta get out of here."

He turned and started scrambling up the ladder to the closed hatch. Spencer pulled back as far as the cuffs would allow him, expecting Durante to storm over and yank him back, but instead Durante just drew his gun and fired. Spencer flinched, Kyle shouted, and Eddie screamed, falling from the ladder with blood pouring from his leg.

"You're not going anywhere."

Eddie just kept screaming, trembling hands grabbing at his thigh. A cell phone slid from one of his pockets and before Durante could see it, Spencer slid it over with one foot and stood half on it, keeping it hidden from sight as Durante came over, hauled Eddie up and over to the body in the corner. He dumped him on the floor, snatched a key from the table, and unlocked the shackles on the body, shoving it aside carelessly and yanking Eddie's hands up to snap the shackles around his wrists without bothering to remove the zip tie.

Spencer's gaze went from them to Kyle, who watched Durante with tense shoulders, his back to Spencer who noticed a mark on the back of the young man's neck, half hidden by his hair. When Kyle shifted to keep his sights on Durante as he freed the body on the bed, Spencer managed to see all of the mark—four intersecting lines cut to create a simple eight-point star. It was a mark he'd seen before, in autopsy and crime scene photos of the Lake Michigan Mutilator's victims. It was a case from before his time at the FBI, but on joining the BAU he decided to read up on every case they'd worked on. He still had plenty to go, but he'd read about the Mutilator and the star was part of his signature.

Realising his situation was getting worse by the minute, he nervously wetted dry lips and asked, "Lucius? Where's Vic?"

Durante glanced over with a smirk. "Don't worry, doc. You grew on me so I decided to put Vic down and claim you myself. Vic's not a threat to you anymore; he won't be cooking your brains."

"I think I'd prefer that to what you're going to do."

Durante's smirk faded and he pushed the body off the bed and onto the floor then straightened up. "And what, exactly, do you think I'm going to do?"

"Torture me. It'll last for days, anything up to two weeks, and you'll—" he swallowed thickly and licked his lips before continuing, "—you'll rape me. But first you'll do it all to Kyle and make me and Eddie watch. Before you kill him you'll mark one of us—probably Eddie because he's already injured and at risk of dying—with that star you carved into the back of Kyle's neck, and then you'll dispose of Kyle in the lake. Once you've done that, you'll come back here and torture whichever of us you marked, and you might bring another young man with you in preparation of your next victim."

All of them were staring at him now, Eddie and Kyle with horror, Durante looking almost impressed and moving over to stand behind Spencer, curling his hands around his shoulders. Spencer tensed, fighting the urge to pull away as he felt the man press against his back.

"So you know all about me, Doctor Smarty-Pants. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised a Fed figured me out. But you're a rookie. I know Vic was your first case in the field, and I was already in Pontiac for beating up an old friend when he got arrested, so you couldn't have worked on the Mutilator killings a few years ago."

"The Mutilator?" Eddie repeated weakly. "The Lake Michigan Mutilator? That's you?"

Durante hummed his agreement without taking his gaze off Spencer, running his hands down Spencer's arms. "So how do you know all the details, doc?"

"I-I read about it. I've been reading into all the BAU's cases."

"BAU?" Kyle repeated. "I thought he said you're a Fed. What's the BAU?"

Durante sighed. "Can you believe I had to put up with that for eighteen months?" he said to Spencer. "Is it really any wonder I want to kill him? Boy's injected so much crap into his veins that his brain has shrivelled up. But he is pretty," he added, cutting his gaze to Kyle and smiling. "And I can never resist a pretty face. It's why I picked up Eddie over there. He was just hanging about at the motel where Kyle was. It was like a gift from God. Two for the price of one," he laughed.

"They're going to find you."

It was Eddie who spoke and Durante looked over at him, letting go of Spencer to walk over and crouch before the other man.

"No they won't, Eddie. They couldn't find me before; they won't find me now."

"There's a Fed looking for me," Eddie insisted. "He was meant to meet me at that motel, he's probably there now. He'll know you grabbed me."

"So? I grabbed him right in front of his colleague," he said, gesturing over at Spencer. "They know I've got one of their agents and they haven't found me yet. What makes you think grabbing a street dealing punk like you is going to make them find me any quicker?"

Eddie had no reply to that and Durante chuckled. "That's what I thought. The Feds aren't going to find you, Eddie. Not until your body washes up on the lake shore."

* * *

"Hey, whoa, we can't disturb the scene before CSU gets here."

Alex ignored Morgan's words, grabbing Eddie's messenger bag and upending it. Several pill pots tumbled out, as well as a dog-eared notebook, a couple of pens with no lids, and a few other bits and pieces.

"Call your tech."

"What?"

"Your tech!" Alex insisted, rising and pulling out his cell phone. "The Garcia woman. Eddie has a second phone and it's not here. He might still have it on him. If we can trace it—"

"We find Durante," Morgan finished, yanking his phone out and dialling. "Garcia, we need to trace a cell phone."

"Give it to me, sugar."

Alex rattled off the number then called the field office to update Hotch and Gideon and get them to organise a SWAT team while Garcia worked. As soon as she had an address for them and the co-ordinates sent to the SUV's satnav, Alex relayed it and then they set off, lights flashing but sirens silent, not wanting to alert Durante of their presence until the SWAT team was there to back them up.

They arrived at the garage first, spent nearly a minute impatiently waiting for SWAT to arrive to crack the garage door open, only for it to start rattling up before they got there.

"Mahone."

"I see it."

They got out, using the doors for cover and aiming guns at the garage as the door slid up. Beyond it was the same van that'd kidnapped Spencer, and Durante, arms still outstretched to lift the door, looking startled to see Alex and Morgan.

"Keep your hands in the air and come out!"

The startled look gave way to one of anger and he yanked the door down. Alex and Morgan rushed forwards, reaching it before it slammed down and Durante could lock it. They each grabbed it with one hand and jerked it up, aiming their guns through even before it was fully lifted again. It was a good job they did because Durante had drawn one and he fired, the shot hitting the half open door with a rattling clang, and Alex and Morgan fired back, both shooting with deadly accuracy to leave Durante lying on the floor with six shots to the chest. Alex remained in place, weapon still ready as Morgan moved forward and kicked the gun away from Durante before crouching to check for a pulse. Only when he nodded confirmation of death did Alex lower his weapon.

Morgan rose and approached the van. "Reid? You in there?"

There was no response. He still had his weapon drawn and Alex kept his up as the other man approached the van, grabbed the side door handle and yanked it open.

"Oh!"

Morgan got hit by the smell first but Alex saw the bodies before the stench hit him, two heavily decomposed corpses tossed into the back of the van. There was no sign of Spencer, Eddie, or Kyle.

Flashing lights and tyres screeching alerted them to SWAT arriving. Morgan moved out to greet them, but Alex swept his gaze over the garage. It was lit mostly by the headlights from the vehicles outside and he could just make out an indentation in the ground on the far side.

"Morgan."

They approached, Morgan readying his weapon while Alex crouched and dug his fingers into the crevice, grabbing the edge of the stone and lifting.

"Reid!"

Morgan voice was filled with unbridled relief as he and Alex looked down into the room below and the young agent still handcuffed to the ladder. Spencer sighed with relief, pressing his forehead to the ladder and muttering thanks before looking up again.

"We need a medic down here, someone's been shot."

Morgan called for one while Alex climbed down, pulling a set of cuff keys from his pocket once he was down.

"I can get it," Spencer said, taking the key from him. "Help Eddie."

Eddie was chained in one corner, his leg a bloody mess, while Kyle was on the bed, chained on his front with arms and legs outstretched. Spencer shouted up to Morgan to retrieve the shackles key from Durante while Alex crouched in front of Eddie.

"Hey, Eddie, you hear me? Look at me, Eddie. Open your eyes."

With difficulty, he did, staring blearily at Alex. "Hey, Mahone-y. You found me."

"Course I did, I'm a federal agent. You think I didn't know about that second phone of yours?"

Eddie huffed a weak laugh. "Goddamn government. Can't hide nothing from you fuckers."

"Yeah, well this fucker's saving your life so don't complain."

Spencer came over with the key to free Eddie's wrists and then the medics were there, shooing Alex out of the way so they could tend to Eddie's leg.

* * *

JJ and Garcia were waiting by the elevators when the BAU team finally returned to Quantico in the early hours of the morning. Spencer, who'd had a fitful sleep on the plane disturbed by dreams of brain soup and dark torture chambers, couldn't help flinching slightly when Garcia came forwards, grinning at the sight of him. He pretended not to feel himself flushing when she hesitated and the rest of the team all shot him worried looks.

"Go home, guys," Hotch said, drawing some of the attention away from Spencer. "Get some rest and don't worry about being late in tomorrow—today," he corrected himself and then, despite his words, headed towards his office instead of back to the elevator to leave. Gideon gave Spencer an encouraging smile then followed after Hotch.

JJ smiled gently. "Welcome back. I'm glad you're safe, Spence."

"Yeah," Garcia agreed, still looking like she wanted to hug Spencer but refraining. She settled for reaching out and squeezing his arm comfortingly. "It's good to have you back."

"Thanks, guys."

Morgan gave him a friendly nudge. "This place just wouldn't be the same without you, Doctor Smarty-Pants."

Spencer grimaced. "Hey, Morgan? Do me a favour and don't ever call me that again."


End file.
